Amethyst by Lauren Royal Page A

needed a friend right now.
    "Amy, then. Um…might I guess you'd like a bath?"
    "Oh, yes," she breathed gratefully.
    "And some supper," Colin interjected. "She hasn't eaten in two days," he explained to Kendra.
    Amy shook her head slightly. She was certain she couldn't eat yet. "I really just want to sleep."
    "Warm chocolate, then," Colin insisted.
    Amy nodded acceptance.
    "With brandy in it," he added decisively. "And some soup."
    Amy sighed. "Perhaps some soup. The chocolate sounds nice."
    The brandy sounded nice. The brandy and bed. She'd be willing to wager the beds in a place like this would be soft and comfortable.
    "Well, up you go, then." Colin gestured toward the stairs. "Up you all go, in fact," he declared in a raised voice, striding over to the children huddled in the back of the hall, whispering amongst themselves. "Baths for everyone, first thing. Then supper, then bed."
    There were audible groans at this announcement. "Could we not just wash up a bit?" Davis spoke for the group. "We won't really have to take baths , will we?"
    Heading up the stairs, Amy smiled to herself. She knew that at home, Davis probably bathed twice a year, if that. Cleanliness was considered an invitation to infection.
    "Oh yes, you will," Colin stated firmly. "Kendra, two at a time. And fresh hot water for each bath."
    Behind her, Amy heard the children's startled breaths. Such lavish use of water was unheard of in the City. She met Kendra's amused eyes, then watched as her new friend's face took on a mock-serious expression.
    "Tell Cook to prepare supper—lots of it," she called down toward her brother's dark head. "Then, for God's sake, come up and give me a hand. I'm not the one who volunteered to play nursemaid."

CHAPTER TEN

    "THE MEWS WAS over there," Colin said, pointing through the keep's glassless window.
    The children clustered around him, craning their necks to see out. He felt a small tug on his breeches and looked down. Noon sunshine streamed into the ancient roofless tower, dancing on a small lad's red-gold mop of curls.
    The child cocked his head. "What's a news?"
    Colin smiled at his puzzled look. "A mews ," he corrected gently. "A building where the lord kept his falcons. It was destroyed by the Roundheads in the siege of 1643."
    "The same time the holes in the floor happened?" another boy asked.
    "The same time," he told the child, a sturdy apple-cheeked lad. "But that only makes it more fun for hide-and-seek and treasure hunts, doesn't it?"
    The boy and Colin shared a smile before the boy sobered. "When can we go home?"
    "Yes, when?" another echoed.
    "Today?" The smallest girl's blue eyes looked so hopeful in her angelic little face.
    His heart aching for all of them, Colin brushed a golden ringlet off her tiny forehead. "Not today, Mary, but soon, I'm hoping." As a disappointed silence seemed to permeate the stone walls, he sighed, twisting his ring. "Very soon."
    "Did you live in this keep when you were a little boy?"
    Colin chuckled, gazing down into a girl's large brown eyes. "Heavens, no—how old do you think I am?" When the girl blushed, he reached to ruffle her straight flaxen hair. "No one's lived in here for centuries. The building was open to the sky long before my boyhood days. Would you like to see the wall walk?"
    The sound of a clearing throat rang from the doorway. Colin turned, startled.
    "'Dinnertime," Kendra announced.
    He frowned. "How long have you been there?"
    "We want to hear another story," piped up a chubby towhead. Davis's little brother, if Colin remembered right. After a good night's sleep and cleaned of the soot and ash, he appeared a different child.
    "That wasn't a story," he told the boy, then looked up at Kendra. "I was just explaining a bit of history."
    "It's time for dinner now," Kendra said firmly. "Lord Greystone will tell you another story later."
    "I will?"
    "Yes, you will." Kendra shot him a mischievous grin. "You brought them here, you're responsible for their entertainment.